One Sleepless Night
by Chicago
Summary: The Gryffindor seeker is nervous before his first game.. Sap! Fluff! YAY! R&R, por favor..


One Sleepless Night

~ Chicago

Warning! Pure pointless fluff ahead! No like, no read!

@~^~~~~

With a growl, James Potter rolled onto his back and stared at the blurry canopy above him. He rolled over and groped blindly his glasses. If he was going to spend the night before his first Quidditch matchawake, he might as well be able to see. He sighed. He knew what caused this bought of insomnia… He would never admit it, even under Chinese Water Torture, but he was scared. He wanted to do well. During practice he was nearly unstoppable,but he still felt the pressure from his fellow students to do well. Above all he didn't want to let the team down. This would be the first time more than just his family and friends would be watching him play. This would be the entire school.

James lay there for what seemed to be an eternity, picking at his blankets and making himself more and more nervous. Apparently he woke Remus with his restlessness, because the slightly older boy rolled over and muttered something about him needing his rest before the game tomorrow. James grinned. Count onRemus to know his thoughts were troubled, even though they were on opposite ends of the room and Remus had been fast asleep. James often wondered how his friend was so tuned into the thoughts and feelings of those around him, but could never manage to figure it out. '_I guess some people are just more sensitive to that kind of thing_,' he idly thought. He took off his glasses and rolled over, trying to get at least a few hours of sleep. 

It took all of 45 minutes for James to realize that sleep just wouldn't come. With an irritated shove, his glasses were back on his face as he grabbed his wand from the nightstand. Flipping onto his stomach, he began the tedious process of burning the wood of his headboard without actually setting it ablaze. He was surprised that the beds weren't spelled against magical vandalism, but just as quickly dismissed it, glad that his nighttime energy release was not hampered by such protections, he really wasn't in the mood to try to get around all those annoying protection spells. When he was done he gently brushed his fingertips over the slightly warm wood. His carving glowed a misty silver before vanishing into the wood. No one would be able to see it unless they knew exactly where it was in the ornately carved headboard and touched it. 

James yawned. He was finally beginning to feel tired. After replacing his glasses and wand on the nightstand, he rolled over and fell asleeponly a few short hours before he would wake for the game. On the headboard above where he slept, his simple carving waited for a time when it would be found by a first year years later that found himself facing the very same excitement about a Quidditch game that James himself faced.

@~^~~~~

Harry Potter stifled a groan. The anticipation of tomorrow's Quidditch match helping him sleep about as much as Seamus' snoring. Actually, combined with the nearly deafening roar coming from his roommate, Harry was finding it impossible to get any rest whatsoever. He stared at the canopy above him and tried to take his mind off the match tomorrow- or was it later today by this point? With a groan he flopped over onto his stomach and began tracing the inlayed patterns on his headboard.

Harry wondered if his father had been nervous before his first Quidditch match. He doubted it, but maybe, just maybe, James had spent a sleepless night tracing the headboard of his bead, like Harry was now doing.

His fingers continued to idly trace the patterns on his headboard, as Harry thought about his parents, and what they might have been like. He may not be able to remember them, but he could imagine them. In his imagination, his father looked a lot like Harry, with a kind face and infectious laugh. The twinkle in his eyes showed how much he loved Harry and his mother. He couldn't picture his mother as well. People had told him that the only obvious physical trait he had gotten from his mother was her eyes. He liked to think of his mother as a pair of emerald eyes, watching over him. Her gentle spirit keeping him safe and sane through his many years living under the stairs at the Dursley's. 

Harry would have probably wandered through musings of his parents all night if a misty silver glow hadn't drawn his attention to the headboard, where his fingers were still tracing the carved patterns. Harry groped for his glasses for a moment before finding them and putting them on. Turning his attention back to the headboard, he studied the words burned into the wood. He gasped. His mind was blissfully blank for the first time since he began the seemingly impossible task of sleeping before a Quidditch game. 

'_Dad?'_ he though. Harry smiled, knowing a peace that he couldn't remember ever knowing. He gently set his glasses back on the nightstand, rolled over and drifted into sleep as the silver writing slowly faded back into nothingness.

****

_'One sleepless night, before his first Quidditch match, James Potter lay here.'_

@~^~~~~

A.N. Hey all! This is the first Harry Potter fic I've ever written/posted… I hope you enjoyed it and I would love reviews with any comments.. Constructive criticism welcomed, flames keep me warm in my frigid house… J Mega-super-uber-glomps to Destria, who edited for me! *glomp* You should go read her fic, Other Side of the Mirror! It's wonderful!!! Hasta!

****


End file.
